Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Not me and Rosie, mind. No, we had what could be considered our first ever row on Sunday after a few afternoon pints later led to a temporary mutual lack of perspective on housework, but I reckon we'll be able to avoid calling Lionel Hutz in just yet. I refer to the parting of ways between us and Eircom Broadband. €216 it'll cost us to be shot of them.

I remember when they were good old Telecom Éireann and the only ways they could fuck you up were by swallowing your coins in their banjaxed phoneboxes, or charging you extra if calls on your home phone lasted longer than three minutes. Then they got all supercorporate on us, dropped that pesky fada and floated themselves on the stock exchange, meanwhile convincing a shitload of fools to buy shares in them at a heavily infalted price. My family were amongst those fools, though we didn't get burned half as badly as some people did. But yeah, speculate on the stock market and there's every chance things might just go tits up.

What's not so hot is charging people around fifty quid a month for a service they simply don't get. Whinging about your broadband speed sounds an awful lot like what supercilious fuckers would call aFirst World Problem (blogging about it most certainly is), but getting vexed over consistently not getting what you're paying for strikes me as pretty justified. I lack the patience to detail the shoddiness of their service and their customer care, buttake a look at their reviews. A lot of people are left spitting feathers, in what mostly stand out as unusually articulate expressions of internet rage. And why not? They've thrown thousands of euro and thousands of hours of customer hold-time at the incompetent cunts between them. I feel like we have too. Pay peanuts and you get monkeys. Pay €48 a month and you get the dimmest bunch of morons you're likely to find this side of a Kid Rock concert.

David, my favourite of the many technical support staff we dealt with, told me that we'd have to sign a new twelve month contract if we wanted a replacement for the modem that their technicians (incorrectly, as it turned out) told us was the reason why we hadn't had continuous connection for more than twenty minutes for the past month. I could sign that contract, or I could pay Eircom €47 for a new one or, y'know, "just buy your own in Currys". When I pressed David on why exactly I might have to do that he said (and I quote verbatim here, seriously) "Uuuuuuhhh......deregulation ummmmmmmmmmm increased competition and stuff............................................................................................uhhhhh, yeah..." He then left me on hold with squalling feedback in my ear for ten minutes before realising that oh, I was still under contract, as I had said. Fair balls, David, I'd turn up to work stoned off my fucking face too if I could get away with it.

If Eircom were a spouse they'd be attentive at first, before becoming distant, philandering, and then downright abusive. You might just be able to prove in a court of law that this was the case, but it'd take more time and emotional energy than you really have, so you just pay them some money to fuck off and stop annoying you.

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Left Eircom about two years ago and never looked back. We had an old modem at home and when they sent around letters to everyone telling us to update our wifi passwords for security, I realised I couldn't because the modem was out of date. The technical 'support' staff member refused to believe me and told me to switch browsers instead. Eh... what? I nearly flipped the lid at him. Then three days letter, the modem up and died on me (old age, I reckon) and I rang to get a new one. I got the same techie guy who repeatedly asked me to turn it on and off. Was I sure it was plugged in? Yes. Is the on switch on? Yes. Are you sure it's plugged in? Yes. Have you tried another power point? Yes. Rinse and repeat as necessary. Eventually he believed me but told me that if I sent in the modem for a new one, and the IT guys found that my old one worked, they would be very annoyed with me. I kid you not. Anyhoo, got the new modem, stayed until my patience ran out with the inconsistent connection which dropped broadband everytime the phone rang/someone did the hoovering/someone sneezed and then switched. Best decision ever.

Bord Gais have the most hilarious customer service. It's like it's a family business and someone's nephew's been brought in to man the phones for an afternoon. "You want... gas? Uh. I'll just... I'll put you on hold for a minute while I... see what our system says. *checks Wikipedia*"

My apologies for the slow response to comments. turns out you need to have internet connection to respond to comments about how shite Eircom are, and that's been virtually non-existent the last three days. A conspiracy, no doubt.

Rosie - Well, you tell it all about my flatulence.

Annie - Sometimes I swear I'm being recorded for some kind of hidden camera show when they have me on the line.

emordino - They do offer electricity now, too. It's a lot to get your head around.

It's the nature of the beast, alas. Here in Canada, the beast is Bell and they are the biggest shower of fucking arseholes I've ever come across - and I used to work for Dublin Gas (now Bord Gais, I believe) so I know whereof I speak. Fortunately I do not use them for internet or mobile, just telephone. But they're the only landline I can get in this neck of the woods, and I can't muster the balls to tell them to go fuck themselves and switch to full-time cell use.

If Rosie should ever decide to hire herself out as a monopoly killer, I'd be thrilled to buy her services!

A layman speaks... 'contention ratio' is ISP-speak for the number of users sharing the same data access point. If all users are online at the same time downloading massive media files then the access speed they've been sold is greatly diminished.

About Me

Born in 1457, Andrew spent his formative years hunting rattlesnakes on the banks of the Mississippi River. Tiring of this, he worked alongside Yasmine Bleeth as a stockbroker in New York, before jacking it in to join the Amish community. A briefly succesful music career in Japan followed before the sake got the better of him and he retired to an obscure part of the public sector in Ireland. He will be pleasantly astonished if anyone chooses to listen to him. He thinks he can spell really well. He feels bad about the rattlesnakes now.